


big teeth small kiss

by songandsilence



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songandsilence/pseuds/songandsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Staying does them no good. They aren’t <i>doing</i> anything, and are actually turning down opportunities being offered to them in favor of staying in the decaying metal bones of this building. </p><p>It’s just a building, like a Jaeger is just a machine.</p><p>(It isn't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	big teeth small kiss

**It didn’t come easy**  
 **I’m glad it was hard**  
 **Worth the wait to give you my heart**

**Big teeth – small kiss**  
 **I turn to wax and melt like this**

**I found you in pieces you’d been torn apart**  
 **A million reasons to end before you start**  
 **But deep down I knew**  
 **No matter what in the end, it’d be me and you**  
BTSK - MS MR

* * *

 

It always seems to be raining. They stay in the bones of the HK Shatterdome, pretend they can hear the beat of the rain on the roof all the way in her bunk. They almost can – the emptiness of the place echoes, feels hollow and tired. They are the last. Always the last.

There is a ragged sort of stubbornness in them staying. The Jaeger program has been disbanded, the tech turned over the reconstruction efforts, teams dispersed. Soon it’s just them and Herc and a few other stragglers, gripping what was with white knuckles.

Staying does them no good. They aren’t _doing_ anything, and are actually turning down opportunities being offered to them in favor of staying in the decaying metal bones of this building.

It’s just a building, like a Jaeger is just a machine.

(It isn't.)

But they can’t leave. As they cling to each other in the dark each night, there’s a tint of blue desperation over everything. This is the place they came together. The place they Drifted. If they leave, if it disappears, what happens to them? What if there’s nothing left?

In the near-empty mess hall, they sit across from Herc and let their knees rest against each other. Herc is skeletal, shadowed, still breathing simply because he doesn’t know how to stop. Their silverware rings out, too bright in their ears. Out of habit Mako grabs an extra _anpan_ for Pentecost, one of his sole indulgences, only to be left with it sitting on her tray, heavy as lead.

They are weighed down with an empty hangar full of Jaeger-shaped spaces, cavernous where there were once thousands of cheering people. Sometimes she can feel it under her ribs still, the thunder of desperate relief all directed at her and Raleigh. Triumph born of despairing resilience. Sometimes they sit on the scaffolding, legs hanging over the edge, looking out into space. They are silent. Partially because they don’t need to speak and partially because there is nothing to say.

Sleeping tangled together becomes a habit when they find they can’t sleep apart – their nightmares are things only the other half of themselves can understand. Waking with a gasp, it takes Mako long, heart-rending moments to shed the imagined reality, to realize that yes, her sensei is dead, but he died in the manner of his choosing. That yes, she nearly died of an oxygen-starved brain (twice), but she is alive and she avenged her family. That yes, Raleigh fell, but then he rose.

Raleigh already has his arms around her, murmuring something into her hair. Turning, she grips him so tightly that for a second she can’t tell if the drumbeat against her ribs is her heart or his. Had he been dreaming too? Had he dreamt of Yancy again? Of the agonizing, impossible walk back to shore by himself? Or of her – so often, her – screaming, falling, ripped from him. Another part of himself lost.

Slowly, after endless moments in the dark, their holds loosen enough so that they can slide their faces close together. Mako presses her lips to his temple, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbone, his lips. His arms tighten so that her ribs ache, but she likes it. Her exhale becomes his inhale, the rise of his chest becomes the fall of hers.

He touches her, whisper-light on the back of her knee, skimming up her thigh, fingernails over her shoulder blade. She mirrors him, hands running across the wide plane of his shoulders, the ridges of scars that make him shake. Her teeth skim over his jaw, down his neck to his collarbones. In the waking moments after the nightmares, she wants to reassure herself that he is there and he is whole. He doesn’t let it last long – soon he is pulling her up with a muffled groan and pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to her mouth before moving lower, the tips of her hair resting on her throat.

Sweeping her hands over his hair as his lips trail down the hollow between her breasts, she begins to feel grounded again. Grounded in the solidity of him, his body and the echo of his thoughts. With his mouth on her stomach, he glances up and the look in his eyes burns through her. The blanket slid off the bed behind him. Neither one of them cares.

They never lose touch of each other. Her legs hooked around him, heel on his back, his arms around her thighs, hips, pinning her while he lowers his head between her legs. The first touch of his tongue is enough to rock her back, head tilted up, shivers racing across her skin. She’s whispering a steady stream of words she doesn’t remember – they come tumbling from her lips without ceasing. Too much, she thinks. It’s all too much. Too much of him, never enough.

Even now, their blood hums with fear. It’s dull, doesn’t always make itself known, but it’s there. Fear that this will be the last time. That they will lose each other – not to the kaiju, but to the openness of the world around them. What will keep them anchored together if not this place?

In the grey hours before dawn, they come together in her small, sheltered bunk. Her mouth is open on his forehead, teeth grazing his hairline, his on her neck, breath hot on her skin. The rock of his hips against hers is all that keeps her together, even as she’s coming to pieces.

They sleep soundly after that, heads sharing the same pillow.

Herc keeps telling them to leave, but the words have recently gained more fire. It has lit a spark in the man, his mission to kick them out into the world. The change is sudden, almost overnight, and they’re not sure where it comes from. Not sure what it means. It feels a little like kicking a dog that just wants to stay by your side, but Herc doesn’t see it that way.

The world needs more people like them, Herc says. People who come together in times of crisis instead of pulling apart. Who put their trust in each other.

The echo of Stacker in his voice makes her ache.

Do they leave? It’s the question that follows them around as they rattle aimlessly in the space, nips at their heels. Standing in the rain outside the enormous bay doors, Mako lifts her face to the rain and lets it wash over her cheeks, cool on her eyelids. It’s always raining. In the distance, Hong Kong rebuilds itself. She put some of those scars in the city herself, she thinks. She and Raleigh and Gipsy.

He finds her there, stands beside her with his hip resting against the metal railing. They don’t talk. They don’t need to.

The realization has been sneaking up on her for weeks, but it doesn’t hit home until then. In the rain, she tips her head up to him and knows that it isn’t just this place that holds them together. Every part of her is his, every part of him is hers. Curiously, he looks down into her eyes and cracks a ghost of a smile. It has been a long time since they smiled.

They begin packing the next day, a satisfied looking Herc poking his head in but saying nothing. Carefully, she wraps up a small red shoe and cocoons it in his sweaters at the heart of his bag. Her throat is tight, but she thinks that maybe a world with Raleigh at her side won’t be so hard to face.

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter.

* * *

 

The Breach opens again, and they’re on the front lines again.

When the first kaiju makes land in Taiwan, they have nothing. No Jaegers. Nothing at all. It’s so close, and they are forced to sit and watch the news of the destruction roll in, same as everybody else. She sits rigidly in her seat, eyes trained on the screen, whole body shaking. There is nothing he can do but put his hand over hers.

A Jaeger is built for them in a month and a half flat. It is unparalleled, but this time the world knows what to do. They know what worked before. The HK Shatterdome is inundated with people, humming with fear and anxiety and – strangely – excitement. It is alive again, flesh on the bone. With weary eyes, Herc straightens and shoulders the load.

Mako and Raleigh wait on the balls of their feet. Ready. So ready. Their sleep is dreamless. There is a lot they carry into the Drift, but every part of her is tangled with every part of him, understood and protected.

Stepping inside the Conn-Pod with him feels like coming home, like their muscles finally know what to do in this space. Her heart knows what rhythm to beat to. Looking over at Raleigh, she sees the same on his face. They step into the harnesses, listen to the chatter over the coms. It is terrifying and it is familiar.

She turns to him, eyes full.

They’re right where they are supposed to be.


End file.
